Why

doesn't anyone publish the shit?

things have to reach the topmost level of perfection before publication, or posting, or "handing in" of any kind can happen.
why does there have to be resolve?
what if, right now, I don't want to talk myself into a "share-worthy" state.

what if I don't feel like covering up the shit, the muck, the ugly.

why still ask "what if" ...

perhaps we're so afraid of being identified with the ugly we feel, that there's no way we can allow someone to see the imperfection that comes out of our minds...

well here's to publishing the ugly.

I am lost and afraid.
terrified actually.
so much so most of the time, that it's mind-numbingly excruciating.
and there's no resolve to that, and I'm convinced there won't be until we're no longer on this side of heaven.

we can cling to hope, set our sights on the freedom and blessings offered to us even now.  but while I'm here, on this earth, even that will not be enough.
Ever.

that fucking blows.